They were so close to having me, only an easy downhill transport stretch before the finish line. The music, the interiors, the atmosphere, the looks of the guys behind the bar, their clothes, the sofas, the design of the black board menu, the content of the menu, the name of the drinks – everything. They could have turned on the autopilot and just relaxed, let the everyday routine actions take care of the rest and they would have arrived safely and had me in their pocket.
Then this unexpected obstacle was thrown in front of them on the track, and it could easily have been ignored if it wasn’t for my honesty. The honesty that was triggered mainly because of that they were still on a straight scoring path at this point and had almost claimed this little box in my “me like” part of my brain.
– That’ll be 38 krona for the juice please.
– Hm…I thought the 16 oz. ones were 50 krona?
– Oh…yeah, they are…hm…sorry…
– But now I will of course get it for 38 since I pointed it out, right?
– Of course, my mistake, thanks for highlighting it though.
Here we’re still fine, couldn’t be better, even climbed an extra notch on the ladder thanks to the last reply from behind the bar. Then, the manager suddenly drops his attention from the mixer, turns his head to the cute guy behind the counter and quickly puts an end to this silly customer service and goodwill manners. If it says 50 krona, 50 krona it is. Basta!
The winning concept comes to a full stop on the course, stumbles, falls and makes a massive face plant. So close, so not necessary. In no time they’ve lost me, when they could have had me.
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